I have received personal emails, comments and phone calls from friends and loved ones.
Some of you, with only the best of intentions, written or said that you don't know what to say. I understand. I really do. I don't expect for anyone to say something so profound that I will feel healed. I appreciate your concern, very much. Phone calls aren't my preferred method of contact, right now. I don't particularly want to TALK about my son, and all the sordid details. Can you understand that? If you would take the time to post a comment--just a "Hi, Debby, I want you to know that I am praying for you" means a lot to me. It lifts my spirit more than you can know. What I'm trying to say is this-- I am writing about my feelings with total candor. One day, I hope that my son will read my blog so that he might understand that he is not the only person who is suffering because of his addiction. It is my deepest hope that my blog will end with my son's own entry, stating that he is "saved"...that he is sober and that he will fight as hard as he can to stay clean.
It's like hearing that someone has died. What do you say to those who are left behind? I used to feel awkward about that-- until my mother died. I realized, then, that I was perfectly okay talking about my mother. In fact, I welcomed hearing people talking about my mother.
For the parent of an addict, what we don't want to feel is alienated. If anything, we long to talk with other parents of addicts. I appreciate hearing from other addicts, too. That is what my blog has evolved into being to me-- a way to meet people who share my story. Or, meeting someone like Dr. Junig who is not only a drug addict in recovery, but someone who fully understands the medical aspects of addiction.
What do you write or say to me? Just one line, telling me that you are praying for us means so much to me. You don't have to avoid contacting me, because you feel you have no advice to give. Every family and every addict has a different story. What works for one person, doesn't necessarily work for another. Advice isn't necessarily what I'm needing. Just knowing that there are people out there, who share in my coping with having an addict in the family.
I refuse to allow myself to feel ashamed of my son. I don't. I love my son, unconditionally. I am not ashamed of him. I do not want my son out of my life. Yesterday, my son said that he'd be better out of my life. That breaks my heart.
Today, I am still trying to digest all that has happened. I am trying to sort out my feelings, and trying to direct my anger in the right direction. I hate drugs, and my hatred and anger is directed at addiction.
I keep hearing the cliche that my son "made his own choices". There is some truth in that, but I doubt that my son has CHOSEN to become an addict. I believe that whatever unresolved hurt and anger that B has inside him has found that drugs help him to escape the darkness that is in his soul.
My son has not chosen to turn his life into a train wreck-- thought, that's where he's headed. Rather, I think that my son chose to jump onto a runaway train and he doesn't know how to get off. He's afraid to take the all important first step-- literally. He's in denial of his problem. He still believes that he can do this on his own.
Whether B uses suboxone, methadone or goes into a high faluttin' rehab center (that we cannot afford), he will never find sobriety until he desires it enough to fight for his life. Right now, he's chipping-- he is juggling suboxone for a few days, and then surrendering to smoking heroin so that he can find that "perfect place" that he says his high gives him.
Chasing the dragon...
For me, I think of him constantly. As I sat through church, I listened to a message called "Hurt People Hurt People" and I jotted down pages of notes. My son is hurting, but I cannot help him to heal his pain. He blames others for his problems. I believe, personally, that he needs to own up to his baggage. He needs to claim it. He needs to take responsibility for the hurts and disappointments in his life that he has collapsed around. He needs to find that blaming others for his problems is not working.
Still, I miss him. There is a void in my home. His room looks like a guest room again. All of his belongings are boxed and put away. Still, I feel his presence and absence.
My son has deprived me of being what I love most-- a nurturing mom. My meal plan still sits on my refrigerator door... meals that I wanted to make to please my family. Now, it's back to just the two of us. I love being a wife, but it's not the same as being a mom. Those of you who have kids, understand what I am talking about.
Last night, B sent a text message to me. He wrote that he loved me, and thanked me for everything. He said that he had taken his insulin, and antibiotics and that he was going to sleep.
Right now, I have no idea what he's doing or how he is doing. I need to leave him alone, to sort through things, on his own. If he paid his drug dealer, I do not know. If he lied and used the money to buy more drugs-- only God knows.
If you and I have never met, but you are reading my blog-- any kind of comment is precious to me. Please be kind, though. Negative comments that criticize how I am dealing with my son's addiction... they hurt. I still read them, think about them...but they affect me.
I might sound like a strong woman, but I have a lot of insecurities. There is a still a wounded child inside me.
I will blog a lot more often than I have in the last few weeks. Subconsciously, I so believed that my son was clean and that he had a handle on his addiction. I was wrong. All along, B has been living a lie and saying just the right things to try and please me.
I love my son and I am not ashamed of him. I hurt for my son. I do not want my son to die nor do I want my son to end up in jail.
I try in my Higher Power-- my Abba Father. God-- the creator of the Universe. I pray that what is happening, right not, is all part of God's plan. Sometimes, God has to allow us to suffer for many reasons... to draw us nearer to Him, to build our trust in Him, to build our character or to bring us to our knees... where we might finally cry out and surrender to Him.
2 Corinthians 12 (New International Version)
7To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. 10That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.